


The Life of Us

by ShadowofaBlackRose



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angie can't catch a break, F/F, First Meeting, Fluff, Mutual moping ensues, Okay lots of angst, PTSD, Peggy's still mourning for Steve, Pre-Canon, Some angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:03:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowofaBlackRose/pseuds/ShadowofaBlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Around them the room had grown quiet. It was nearly midnight. 1946. The war was finally over and tonight the world would breathe a sigh of relief. A new year, and this time it would be one of peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surviving the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a bit late to the party writing for these two but hey, better late than never, right? This is also my first time writing fic in a while so bear with me, I'm still trying to get my bearings back. Enjoy!

Damn it was cold. Like really, really cold. Angie had been stood outside this frankly ridiculously lavish looking hotel for the best part of an hour and still the guy hadn't showed. The party inside was already in full swing, the smooth tones of the band reaching out to Angie's ears and mocking her as she stood there. 

She checked her watch again. Ten o'clock. This was getting ridiculous. Angie was sure Mr Hartley's assistant had told him that the party started at nine. She had been careful to write all of the details down as soon as the man himself had told her thanks but no thanks and sent her on her way. Unless, of course, he'd decided not to come. That was a possibility, although it hadn't sounded like the kind of do he'd want to miss with the way his assistant was gushing about it. 

Damn it. Maybe this had been a mistake. 

"Enough. Tell the dame if she wants the role she'll do as I damn well ask. I'm late already, I haven't got time for this." A car door slammed and Angie looked up to find Richard Hartley struggling to remove his overcoat as his car drove away into the depths of the city. 

About time! 

Checking to see that the doorman wasn't looking she made her way over to the man, pulling her coat tighter around her in an attempt to calm her shivering. Mr Hartley didn't seem to notice her as he wrestled with the garment that apparently didn't want to be separated from his body. 

"Mr Hartley, sir?" Angie reached out a hand to tap him on the shoulder but thought better of it at the last minute. Mr Hartley turned his distracted gaze towards her and mumbled something that she couldn't quite make out. "Sorry to bother you, sir. My name's Angie Martinelli. I auditioned for you earlier today?" 

"What? Oh, yeah well, I can't be expected to remember every girl who I audition." 

Well, that was more than a little rude. Hartley wasn't the best director in town, but to be invited to this party the guy had to be friends with some serious hot-shots. Angie supposed she couldn't expect him to be the nicest guy around if he was playing with the big boys.

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for the feedback you gave me. I really think it'll help me improve in future auditions." 

"Listen Doll, that's swell and all but I'm runnin' late. Why don't you get that pretty ass of yours off home? It aint right for a lady to be out alone at this time of night." With that he gave her backside a quick smack before he turned and headed off towards the doorman who took his name and promptly stepped aside. 

Angie rolled her eyes. _Calm Angie, it'll be worth it in the long run_. Stooping down she made as if she were fixing the strap of her shoe until she saw Mr Hartley round the corner, then, taking a breath, she calmly headed towards the doorman. 

"Name, Miss?" 

"Oh, my name won't be on there sir. I'm here with Mr Richard Hartley. He just went in." The doorman raised a questioning eyebrow and Angie had to focus all of her effort on not blushing. 

"Listen, Miss, if you're name's not on the list..." 

"Oh, yeah, of course. I just," pausing Angie made her voice catch in her throat and stuck her lower lip out a little, "well, I'm sure you saw us talking just now. Thing is, he's been so damn grumpy today, and if I can't get in now he'll have plenty to say about it later. I would have gone in with him, only my shoe strap came loose and I... I..." 

Tears welled in her eyes and she could see through the blur of her vision that the doorman's features had softened slightly. He reached out a hand and patted Angie gingerly on the shoulder. 

"There there, please don't... look, I can't just... I can't... Oh, alright. But just this once." Stepping aside he smiled as Angie slid past him, murmuring her thanks as she sniffed back her crocodile tears. 

"Not convincing enough," she muttered to herself, rounding the corner and slipping her coat off, "Mr Hartley, you haven't got a clue." 

 

*

 

Okay, so maybe Angie hadn't exactly thought this plan through. Sure, at first hearing Hartley's assistant gushing about Howard Stark's New Year's party and how all the most important people would be there to celebrate the start of a new, war-free year had sounded like the perfect opportunity to get some well respected directors to know her name. Now though? Now she was starting to think that she would have been better off staying home. 

Phase two of the plan - making connections - had only been in action for fifteen minutes or so. Already Angie had been groped five times, sent away with orders to come back during business hours more times than she could count, and one guy had even had the audacity to ignore her completely. That was how she had found herself slumped in a chair in the back corner of the hotel ballroom with a half empty bottle of champagne. It was some consolation, Angie supposed, that the alcohol at this shindig was free, especially seeing as Stark had forked out for the good stuff. At least if she wasn't going to get a job out of tonight she could get thoroughly drunk and maybe even steal a bottle or two for a later date. 

"You look as though you're having about as much fun as I am." 

The voice was low and worn. It came so suddenly over the soft tune that the band was currently playing that it made Angie jump visibly in her seat. Angie turned to glance back over her right shoulder to find a woman leant up against a nearby wall, watching her. 

"My apologies," the woman said, pushing away from the wall and slipping into the seat by Angie's, "I didn't mean to startle you" 

"Yeah, well... guess I was expecting a Stark party to be a lot more interesting than this." 

A half smile pulled at the corner of the other woman's lips but she didn't respond. She seemed content to just sit, comfortable in the company of someone else who wished they were elsewhere. 

Allowing a silence to fall between them, only broken by the band and the conversations of others around them, Angie took the opportunity to study this new woman a little more carefully. She was pretty - that was Angie's first thought - with dark eyes that watched the couples dancing in the centre of the room intently, and cheekbones so sharp Angie thought she could cut through a finger with just the slightest touch. The woman seemed to be dressed more for a day's work than an ostentatious party thrown by the most notorious playboy around and, though Angie thought she hid it well, there was something in the woman's face that gave away how tired she was. 

That made Angie's heart ache, because that tiredness was one that she recognised all too well. It was the tiredness of a woman who had had too much taken from her in that recently ended war. Angie saw women with that look in their eyes just about every day at the L&L. In fact, that morning, just before she left for her audition, a woman had stumbled in with the same tiredness etched into her face and had been so distracted by the child clinging to her leg that she couldn't even work out what she wanted to order. 

"What's really got you so down?" The woman's voice was slightly louder this time and as she spoke Angie noted the crisp accent edging her words. It was intriguing, Angie thought - a war-torn English woman, grudgingly attending a Stark soiree in the middle of New York. A part of her wanted to ignore the question entirely and ask a few of her own instead. Deciding against that plan, she shrugged. 

"Snuck in here thinking I could get a job out of it. Should have known better." 

"A job?" 

"I'm an actress... or, I'm trying to be anyway." 

For the first time since taking her seat the woman turned to look at Angie more directly. A little of that tiredness seemed to have seeped away, replaced by a hint of intrigue, and she studied Angie quietly for a moment. 

"Have you done much acting?" 

"Does reading lines to my mirror count?" The woman chuckled and Angie smiled in return. She had a nice laugh - smooth and clean - almost as pristine as the curls of hair that framed her face. 

"Well, if I worked in theatre, I'm sure I would give you a part immediately." 

"That's sweet." Angie hoped that she wasn't blushing, though the heat she felt creeping into her cheeks suggested otherwise. The woman was still watching her but her eyes were beginning to grow unfocused. It was the look of a woman slipping away into her own thoughts. "So, you're not enjoying the party?" 

Just like that those dark eyes focused on Angie once more and she felt a sudden jolt of self consciousness. The woman was quiet for a moment, assessing Angie's question. The muscles in her jaw tightened and she pursed her lips before allowing a deep sigh to escape. 

"I suppose I'm not really in the mood to celebrate." 

"Then why come? Not that I'm complaining - actually, it's kinda nice to have someone else to mope in a corner with, but... I guess I don't understand why you'd..." Angie's words faded to nothing as she caught a glimpse of the amused smirk pulling at the woman's lips and this time she was certain that her cheeks had flushed red. "Sorry," she muttered, "sometimes my mouth runs away with itself." 

"Don't apologise. It's nice. Reminds me of..." The woman sighed and shook her head, seeming to think better of following that particular train of thought. She looked away to scan the room once more. "I only really came because Howard insisted. He said it would do me good. Whatever that's supposed to mean." 

"Howard Stark made you come to his party? Like, he personally insisted?" 

"You sound surprised." 

"No, it's just... I dunno. I guess you seem too nice to be friends with a guy like him. Well, not too nice but..." The woman chuckled and Angie stopped herself once more. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?" 

Ignoring Angie's apparently overactive mind, the woman smiled to herself before nodding as though she agreed. 

"The war had a knack for bringing unlikely people together I suppose. Howard and I were colleagues; he was a valuable ally amongst a sea of pig-headed men who didn't like a woman being in an authoritative position." 

"Sounds like some war experience." 

"It certainly was." 

The smile that pulled at the woman's lips was sadder this time and she lowered her gaze to the glass of liquor she held in her lap. Angie could tell this was no time to push for conversation so she lowered her own gaze, giving her new acquaintance a moment to collect herself. 

This woman had really been through something during the war. At first Angie had assumed that, like most, she must have lost someone. It wasn't uncommon, after all. Almost everyone had had a loss at some point in the last few years - but this was different. Angie didn't know what this woman had been doing in the war, but by the sounds of it she had been somewhere close to the centre of the storm. She'd made it out alive but Angie couldn't help but wonder, at what cost? 

Around them the room had grown quiet. It was nearly midnight. 1946. The war was finally over and tonight the world would breathe a sigh of relief. A new year, and this time it would be one of peace. 

Glancing up at the woman by her side Angie could see that tears had begun to slip from the eyes she was now keeping firmly closed. Carefully, so as not to shock her, she slipped her hand into the one that rested in the woman's lap. People around them were counting down the seconds but Angie tried to block them out. So, maybe this hadn't been how she'd expected to spend her New Year's Eve. Maybe she hadn't been offered a job or got herself out of that damn automat and the days on her feet that she was sure were aging her prematurely. But this was better in a way. 

The last second of 1945 slipped away and around them the room erupted into cheers. Angie could feel the woman's grip tighten around her hand and she leant over and pressed a gentle kiss to the woman's temple. 

"This year's a new start, and I guess it'll be hard at times. But, if you ever need a friend, I work at the L&L Automat. You come see me any time, okay?" 

Angie didn't wait for an answer, she just squeezed the woman's hand once more before slipping away. She weaved her way through the crowds gracefully, sidestepping kissing couples and friends embracing as she headed for the exit. It wasn't until she was half way home that she realised she had never asked her new friend's name.


	2. A Whole New War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girl from Howard's ball. 
> 
> The memory of her caught Peggy off guard. She hadn't thought about that girl at all in the weeks since the ball. Not since the morning after when she found she could still smell the perfume where the girl's throat had brushed her hair as she kissed her.

Peggy couldn't breathe. Everything around her was black and cold and empty and she couldn't breathe. She tried to move but there was a pressure pushing at her from every direction - a pressure that kept her held firmly in place. Bloody Nora, she had to get out of here. She wasn't even sure where 'here' was, but she knew she had to get away. The pressure was increasing with every second and she was sure that if she had to endure it much longer she would be crushed. Crushed beyond repair. And what good would she be to the world then? What good would she be as a tangle of crushed limbs and organs, left to rot in the darkness while the world continued to turn and terrible people continued to cause devastation, with Peggy helpless to do anything?

*

Panic was still clawing at her insides when Peggy woke with a gasp, her lungs aching. The sun was just beginning to pull itself from slumber and as she looked around, trying to find her bearings, Peggy found the darkness suddenly replaced by a gentle orange glow. She was fine. She was safe. The apartment that she shared with Colleen was spread out before her just as it had been when she closed her eyes the previous night and the darkness was long gone. 

_For the love of god Margaret, pull yourself together._

These night terrors had become a bad habit over the past few months. Ever since Peggy had settled in New York she had found herself fighting a new war - one that placed her in direct conflict with her own mind. Frankly, it was beginning to grow tiresome. She was Peggy Carter for heavens' sake. She had risen through the ranks of the army from just another code breaker to one of the most powerful and influential women on the front lines. Perhaps even the most influential (though Peggy liked to believe that there were other women just as deserving of that title). She had faced so much in those years of war so recently passed, she could not be breaking now. 

Shaking off the remaining panic that was lingering in her mind she untangled her limbs from the sheets around her and forced herself out of the bed. Not to worry, she knew exactly how to combat these feelings. 

*

Hours later and Peggy was once more sat in the bullpen, a stack of files on each side of her desk. They flanked her like the guards at the gates of Buckingham Palace, and Peggy had set her mind to working as efficiently and under the same levels of discipline as said establishment. After all, an occupied mind was a mind that couldn't wander, and as such, couldn't turn against its owner. Or, at least, that was the theory that Peggy had been working under since the night terrors had begun. It wasn't that she had any reason to believe she would find herself back in her nightmares during the daylight hours. So far there had been no indication of such a thing happening. Still, better to be safe. 

"Hey Carter, you got those files that Krezminski was workin' on yesterday?" Jack Thompson's voice cut through her concentration and Peggy had to steel herself to avoid clenching her teeth. 

"Filed under L," Peggy spat. Had it been any other agent addressing her she may have felt guilty for her curtness. She may have felt worse for not looking up from the file she was currently scanning. As it was, Agent Thompson was enough of an arse that she couldn't find it in herself to care. 

"Well aren't you a ray of sunshine this morning. Tell you what, how would you like to do a real important job for me? It'll get you out of this stuffy old place for a while. What d'you say?" 

Peggy should have known better than to trust Thompson. She knew she should have known better than to think he would really send her on any meaningful mission. Perhaps it was the restless nights getting to her, but the offer caught her attention. She paused in the motion of scratching notes onto the page before her and raised her eyes to meet Jack's. He seemed sincere, his eyes never wavering. The corners of his mouth even curved up into a small smile. 

"What kind of job?" 

"Refuelling the troops, of course. Can't have the boys going hungry now can we?" 

If she could have rolled her eyes directly into the back of her head, Peggy was almost certain she would have done so at that moment. _Refuelling the troops indeed_. The war may have been over for the men but, as far as Peggy could see, the women of the world were facing a whole new war. 

How on earth had this happened? Only a few years ago Peggy had been putting men like Jack Thompson through their paces at Camp Lehigh. Now she was sorting files and fetching lunch orders. Only months ago she had been fighting on the front lines amongst the very best of men. 

That memory sent a stabbing pain through her chest, and Peggy very quickly snapped out of the seething trance she had fallen into. She could feel the breaths coming short and ragged as they had been when she awoke that morning. Her carefully shaped nails were digging into the palms of her hands where her fists clenched on her desk. 

Thompson was still looking at her expectantly. Peggy forced herself to take a breath and unclench the tensed muscles in her hands. Another errand to fetch lunch - of course. What else could it have been? 

"Carter? Some time today?" Jack's smile had hardened and Peggy wondered how she had ever expected more of him. 

"It's 10am, Agent Thompson." 

"And I'm sure by the time you've finished taking orders it'll be 11. Just enough time for you to find a place, make the order and be back right in time for the lunch break." 

As Thompson walked away Peggy wondered if every woman out there felt this way. Misused. Under appreciated. Like she'd been pushed down and stomped all over, forever prevented from reaching her true potential. 

The girl from Howard's ball. 

The memory of her caught Peggy off guard. She hadn't thought about that girl at all in the weeks since the ball. Not since the morning after when she found she could still smell the perfume where the girl's throat had brushed her hair as she kissed her. What was her name again? Despite her best efforts Peggy couldn't recall. She could just remember the endearing way the girl tried to say everything she was thinking all at once, and her eyes that looked as though they kept an ocean caged inside of her. 

The girl was trying to be an actress, Peggy remembered, but she never seemed to get there. Man after man turning her down. Telling her she wasn't good enough. It seemed most women were being told a similar thing nowadays. _The men are home now sweetheart, let us make your decisions for you_. Men were the reason that that sweet, intriguing girl was stuck working in an automat, when she almost certainly belonged on the stage. 

The L&L Automat. 

Well, she had said to visit if Peggy needed a friend. 

*

The L&L was quiet when Peggy pushed through the revolving door. She was far too early for the lunch rush but late enough that most of the breakfast customers had cleared out to their places of work. Only three other customers were dotted around. An elderly man in a faded suit was sat by the windows, looking out with an almost dazed look on his face. In the back corner of the room a harassed looking mother was trying to get her unruly brood under control. 

The third customer made Peggy pause. He was a young man - probably around her own age - all dressed up in his army uniform, as though the war hadn't been over for months. If it hadn't been for the sling holding his arm to his chest and the crutch propped up on the wall behind him Peggy would have wondered about his attire. He must have just been released from the hospital. 

"Makes it hard to put it all in the past, don't it?" The voice was a shock and Peggy jumped, her head swivelling to find the source. 

It was her. Just as Peggy remembered. Well, not just as she remembered. The curls of the girl's hair were pinned back, topped with a silly little hat that matched the uniform she wore. But it was her. 

Peggy could feel herself staring, stupidly, but she couldn't find the words to greet the girl. Those vibrant eyes were staring into her own intently and Peggy was dumbstruck. 

"Well geez, have I got something on my face?" The girl laughed and Peggy could feel the blush rising in her cheeks. "I mean really English, three weeks since I invited you here and I don't even get a hello?" 

"My apologies, I..." Wait. _English_? Was that supposed to be a nickname? Peggy had been given a few of those in her time, but _English_ was certainly a new one. "Hello." 

"I gotta say, I was starting to think you were never gonna show up. What took you so long?" 

Still Peggy couldn't find the words to answer. The girl was just as she remembered. They barely knew one another and yet she spoke to Peggy as though they'd been friends their entire lives. It was overwhelming really. Peggy didn't remember the last time she had been spoken to with such familiarity. Such fondness. 

"You've been waiting for me?" 

"Well, of course. I didn't tell you where to find me so that you could avoid me at all costs." The girl laughed again and this time Peggy joined her. It was infectious. So light and carefree. 

"I'm afraid I just assumed..." 

"That I was being polite? Not my style English. Not that I'm rude most of the time. Just... y'know. When I say something I tend to mean it." Peggy nodded in response. 

"Then I believe I owe you an apology." 

"Not at all. Though it's very English of you, English." 

"You're rather set on that nickname, aren't you?" For a moment a frown passed over the girl's face and Peggy wondered if she had insulted her somehow. Nicknames were a very American trait, perhaps she had been wrong to poke fun at the one this girl had assigned her. Thankfully, the frown melted away almost as soon as it appeared - replaced by a look of understanding. 

"Well I had to call you something, didn't I? You never did give me your name." 

"Of course. How thoughtless of me. Peggy Carter." Without thinking Peggy reached out a hand to shake in greeting. The girl only looked at it before rolling her eyes. 

"So formal English," she laughed, and before Peggy knew what was happening the girl had pulled her into a tight embrace. The sudden contact caused her to tense up. It wasn't until Peggy caught the familiar scent of the girl's perfume that, shockingly, she found herself relaxing into the girl's arms. "Well then. How about we get you a seat and a cup of coffee?" 

"Oh, I'd much prefer tea. If you have it." 

"Of course you would." 

The girl bustled away and was back before Peggy had even settled herself into the booth she had been pointed towards. There was a tray balanced precariously in one of her hands as she weaved her way towards the window. The girl smiled at the gentleman sat there as she slid a plate of toast onto the table in front of him. She was just turning to leave when Peggy caught the man reaching out to brush the girl's backside with his fingers. 

The girl stopped. Her features had tensed and, as Peggy watched, she could tell there was a heated debate going on behind the girl's eyes - the ocean of her mind thrashing violently. It could only have taken a second but the debate seemed to have been won and the girl span so fast that she almost spilled the cup of tea still balanced on her tray. 

"Y'know what mister, I've had it with those wondering hands of yours. That's five times this morning. My backside 'aint public property y'know. I'll tell ya, if I weren't on the clock right now..." 

"Martinelli!" The shout came from the serving hatch behind the counter and, though no face appeared, the girl seemed to deflate. Peggy watched as the smile was re-painted over the scowl she had been wearing, and the girl apologised to the man in the most sincere voice Peggy supposed she could muster. 

The girl didn't hang around long after that. She turned away and headed straight for Peggy. As she set a cup of what appeared to be murky water down on the table by Peggy's left wrist she tried to smile. Peggy could see the remaining tension in it. The light she had come to know remained absent from the girl's eyes. 

"I know, I know," the girl started, glancing back into the kitchen. Peggy wasn't sure what would follow but the girl seemed to place the altercation behind her as suddenly as it had begun. "I'm sure it's nothing like what you'd get across the pond. Honestly, I've never had to make a cup of tea before in my life. It's not so popular 'round here, y'know. We only have it 'cause I was hoping..." Her voice trailed off and Peggy looked up at her, frowning slightly.

"You were hoping...?" 

"Nah, it sounds stupid." The girl averted her eyes and it slowly began to dawn on Peggy what she was implying.

"You got this especially for me?" she asked, indicating to the cup before her. The girl nodded. "Oh, goodness... you really didn't have to..." 

"I wanted to." 

Heavens, this girl really was something else. Peggy had expected that the girl would have forgotten all about her. Really, now she could only feel guilty for not having though to come here sooner. 

"You're very sweet, Miss Martinelli," Peggy said.

"Oh, God, don't call me that. Angie." She tapped the small name tag that was pinned over her heart and Peggy smiled. A name. Finally. 

"Angie," she repeated, testing out the feel of the name in her mouth. It felt right, like it was made for this charming girl. "It's a pleasure to meet you." 

"You too English. Anything else I can get you?" 

Peggy almost shook her head. She was so caught up in this little reunion with Angie that she had almost forgotten that she had come here for a reason. Turning, she slipped a hand into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. Angie's smile seemed to drop as she handed it over. 

"Your bosses sending you on lunch runs?" she asked, eyes scanning the list of lunch orders. 

"I fear we're both wildly misused in our positions." Peggy glanced over to the man sat in the window and Angie rolled her eyes. 

"I'd've said so."


	3. Words Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of Angie wanted to speak, wanted to tell Peggy that she made her lose herself sometimes. Peggy deserved to know, didn't she? She deserved to know that she could stop Angie from breathing with a single look. She could make Angie feel faint just by smiling.

"I was sure that part was mine. The whole audition went perfectly. I hit all the right notes in my song, the choreographer said she'd never met a girl who could pick up a routine so quickly, and I swear, when I was done reading my lines the director was practically blubbing!" 

Angie scrunched up her nose as she turned to continue pacing. She still couldn't understand it. Since she'd left the audition the night before, she'd been going over and over it in her head. _Maybe next time darlin', okay?_ No. It wasn't okay. What was she doing wrong? 

"Pegs, am I ugly?" 

A harsh choking sound coming from the booth next to her pulled Angie from her thoughts. She turned to look at Peggy only to see the other woman pink cheeked and holding a napkin to her lips as she swallowed the gulp of tea she had just choked on. 

"I beg your pardon?" Peggy's voice was strained, but beneath it she sounded almost offended. 

"Well geez English, it was only a question. No need to go dying on me." Angie hoped that the grin pulling at her lips would cover the slight blush that she could feel rising in her face. Who knew Peggy Carter could be so easily thrown off her game? "I just mean... I dunno. It's the only reason I can think of to explain the constant rejections." 

Peggy eyed her from over the rim of her cup as she took another sip to soothe her throat. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that way Angie had grown accustomed to seeing. She knew by now what that look meant - Peggy disapproved of what she was hearing. 

"That was a serious question? Angie, you're actually asking...? Oh, for heavens' sake!" If Peggy had dropped her cup into its saucer any more violently there was a good chance she might have smashed it. Angie noticed her falter a little, apparently shocked by her own strength. She covered it well and was beginning to stand and pull on her jacket before Angie could get more than a word out. 

"Peg?" 

"I shan't sit here and listen to such nonsense. Either you can be sensible or I shall have to find some new diner to frequent in my lunch hour." 

For a moment Angie had felt her heart stop in her chest. She had learned in the time since Peggy had become a solid fixture in her life that she could be temperamental at times. The suddenness of this mood change though... If it hadn't been for the teasing note that slipped into her tone as she finished speaking Angie would have sworn she was angry with her. 

"English!" Angie couldn't help but laugh as she nudged Peggy back towards her seat. Honestly, if Peggy was anything to go by, the Brits really did have the strangest sense of humour. 

"I'm sorry," Peggy chuckled in response, "but really, you must admit you were asking a rather ridiculous question." 

There was a tightening sensation in Angie's chest as she caught Peggy's eye. Those deep, restless eyes locking her in their hold above a smile that always seemed both shy and dazzling all at once. It felt as though Angie could barely breathe, but she didn't mind it. In fact, it was almost pleasant. 

"Angie?" 

"Yeah? Yeah... sorry. I just..." A part of Angie wanted to speak, wanted to tell Peggy that she made her lose herself sometimes. Peggy deserved to know, didn't she? She deserved to know that she could stop Angie from breathing with a single look. She could make Angie feel faint just by smiling. 

"Never mind." There were some things best left unsaid. 

Peggy frowned but she didn't push the matter further. Angie loved her for that. Growing up, Angie's Ma had always wanted to know every little secret that she had. The woman was like a bloodhound for sniffing out the things that Angie would rather have kept private. Living at the Griffith was no different. Her Ma had been replaced by Ms Fry and the girls, while they made for good company, they were no better. Peggy wasn't like that. Even when she knew that Angie was holding back (and Angie knew that she could tell when she was) she never pushed for answers. Unlike most, Peggy seemed to understand the need for discretion. _Very English of you, English_. 

"Right, enough about my day," Angie said, finally pausing in her pacing and sliding into the booth opposite Peggy, "how're things at the ol' phone company?" 

"As they always are." 

Angie waited for some sort of elaboration, but as always it never came. It seemed that no matter how much Angie talked and talked about her day to day life, Peggy was forever keeping her own life to herself. Not that Angie minded. Of course, Peggy had every right to keep her secrets. After all, hadn't Angie just been considering how much she appreciated being left to keep her own? It only made Angie wonder what her friend could be getting up to to warrant such a strict silence on the subject. 

Looking back at Peggy, Angie found her with her eyes focused on her own lap. The muscles around her mouth were tense. She got like that sometimes. At first Angie had thought it was just an after-effect of the war. Getting lost in thought, most likely about some lost loved one - it wasn't unusual. Now though, she wasn't so sure. Most had begun to pick themselves up and dust themselves off by now. There were fewer lost souls wondering the streets. People were getting back to their lives, but Peggy still seemed so distant. 

"Hey, honey?" Angie was careful to be gentle as she lay her hand on Peggy's shoulder. It still made Peggy jump. "It's okay. Just me. I thought I lost you for a minute there." 

"I was miles away." Her voice was small. Angie wasn't sure if she meant that figuratively or if Peggy's mind had actually been set miles away from a diner in the middle of New York. 

"I should go. They'll be wondering where I've gotten to." It was as though a switch had been flicked and Peggy was back to herself. She re-buttoned the jacket that had been hanging open since she slid it back on and reached for her bag as she swung herself out of the booth. 

"You working late tonight?" Angie asked. Sometimes Peggy would pop in before closing and walk Angie home. They were rare evenings - usually Peggy worked too late - but Angie still liked to hope. 

"I would imagine so." She seemed distracted now. Angie wasn't even sure if she had heard the question. 

"Peggy..." 

"I'll see you soon, darling." The right side of Peggy's lips curved into a half smile and she cupped Angie's elbow in her hand as she slid past. She was gone before Angie could find the words to finish her sentence. 

*

Angie's back had barely hit her mattress when the hall phone started to ring. It was as though the universe was trying to give her a hard time. 

After Peggy had left at lunch her day had only gotten worse. Man after lecherous man had traipsed in, spent the duration of their meal or coffee consumption undressing her with their eyes, then left without any sign of a decent tip. The automat had been packed full all evening, meaning Angie couldn't even take a break, and to top it all off some mother had decided to bring in her over excitable five-year-old who drank three milkshakes, ran rings around Angie and then promptly vomited all over her shoes. 

It was no wonder that the ringing phone felt like a bullet through her brain. 

Curling up on her side, Angie pulled her pillow around her head and pressed it to her ears, trying to block out the noise. Why was no one else answering the damn thing? She knew that she wasn't the only one in. Only a minute or two ago she'd seen Gloria disappearing into her own room looking as though the effort of a day at work had barely touched her. 

Still the phone rang on. 

"I swear to God, if this isn't the president himself..." Angie muttered to herself as she threw her pillow aside and pushed herself into an upright position once more. Every muscle in her body ached and her head felt like it was filled with lead. Still, she managed to make it to the end of the hallway and picked up the phone. "What!" 

"Um…Angie?" 

Angie's stomach twisted at the hesitant tone of Peggy's voice. She sighed and leant her full body weight into the wall, trying not to just slide down to the floor. She would never get herself up again if she ended up down there. 

"Oh. Hey English." 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yeah. Rough day. D'you want something?" The line went quiet and Angie could just picture Peggy's furrowed brows and the tightening at the corners of her lips. 

"I... I wanted to apologise for earlier. I left rather abruptly and I realised I may have upset you in doing so." That made Angie's stomach clench even tighter. 

As it was, she had been too busy to dwell on Peggy's abrupt exit earlier in the day too much. However, now that she thought on it, Angie was beginning to find that she had been a little upset. She was used to Peggy's moods, her detachment and her need to hold Angie at an arm's length. She even thought that she might understand, in a way. Still, it hurt to be shut out like that. Angie cared about Peggy and, though she was under no illusion that Peggy felt the same, she was sure that Peggy cared about her in some way as well. She just wished Peggy would let her in. 

"You don't have to apologise to me Peggy." 

"I do. I'm awfully short with you sometimes. Frankly, I'm not sure why you continue to put up with me." Angie was too tired to argue the matter. Her head was still throbbing and, though she didn't know why, a huff of laughter was pushing itself up past her lips before she could stop it. "Does that amuse you?" Peggy almost sounded irritated. 

"Oh, you're very amusing." Angie continued to laugh." I put up with you 'cause I like you, you dope. That's a thing that we normal people do." 

"So now I'm not normal?" The irritation in Peggy's voice was begging to give way to something more playful and it made Angie feel slightly less weighed down with fatigue. 

"Not at all. Why d'you think I like you so much?" 

Peggy chuckled and the line went quiet once more. Angie could hear her breathing on the other end. It was nice, just knowing she was there. It almost made that urge to tell Peggy how she felt resurface. Angie knew she couldn't. Knew that telling Peggy the truth would be reckless and stupid and... God! Why did life have to be like this? 

"Tell you what," Angie started, finally breaking the silence if only to get her wandering mind under control, "You want to make it up to me? How's about you come to dinner at my family's this Sunday?" 

"Angie, I couldn't. Sunday is the time your family spends together." 

"Exactly." 

"No, Angie..." 

"Oh, come on! You said you wanted to apologise. Well, I ain't accepting your apology until you agree to come to dinner." 

"Angie..." 

"You got any other plans? Any hot dates that I don't know about?" 

"No." If Angie hadn't known Peggy she might have read that tone of voice as one of embarrassment. 

"Good. Then you're coming."


	4. War is no Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You'll get her killed_. The same thought had been circling Peggy's mind over and over since Angie had insisted on her presence at Sunday dinner with her family. No matter what she tried Peggy couldn't seem to shake the fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning - this chapter starts to deal with Peggy's PTSD

How had this happened? How had Peggy not seen it happening? When she'd first spoken with Angie she'd thought she was just humouring Howard. For so long she'd been shutting herself off, only coming into contact with Colleen and the men at work. Howard had said that he was worried about her and so she allowed herself to let Angie in. 

_You'll get her killed_. The same thought had been circling Peggy's mind over and over since Angie had insisted on her presence at Sunday dinner with her family. No matter what she tried Peggy couldn't seem to shake the fear. 

"Hey Peg." The door clicked shut behind Colleen and Peggy turned to watch as the other woman made her way straight for the bed, throwing herself onto its surface with a sigh. "Some night. My feet are throbbing." 

"Poor feet," Peggy commented absently. She turned back to the mirror and continued to pull the pins from her hair, allowing the set curls to fall loose over her shoulders. 

It was a wonder that Colleen had remained safe in the months they'd been living together. Not that Peggy did more than filing paperwork and running errands nowadays, but still. She often felt that she was cursed to lose everyone close to her. Her brother. Her parents. Steve. 

_Stay away from Angie. You don't need to cause the death of another sweet kid from Brooklyn_. 

"Hey, aren't you going to dinner with that friend of yours today?" 

Peggy glanced to the side of herself in the mirror and found Colleen watching her through the reflection. Perhaps they had been living together too long. Sometimes it seemed as though Colleen was reading her mind. 

"I was, yes. I'm not sure I'm going to go." 

"Why not?" 

"It feels wrong, intruding on her time with her family like that." Colleen's face scrunched up into a scowl. It was the sort of expression that, on Angie, would have had guilt bubbling up within Peggy's stomach, fearing that her lie had been found out. Instead, Colleen's scowl only made her sigh impatiently. "I haven't a clue why she insisted in the first place. We're friends, but..." 

"You're friends. That's why she insisted. You can't just not turn up." With that Colleen rolled off of the bed and made her way into the bathroom. "Now get ready and get going before I have to find the poor girl's address and drag you there myself." 

*

A loud clatter echoed through the door as Peggy's knock faded to nothing. The clatter was followed by a cheer and boisterous male laughter as a few smaller bangs and shuffling sounds followed. 

"Oh, give over ya bunch of animals. I tripped. 'aint you seen a lady trip before?" Peggy could feel the smile pulling at her lips at the sound of Angie's voice. She had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling. 

"No lady'd ever trip like that!" Someone shouted. 

Though Peggy could still hear the niggling voices in the back of her mind telling her to get away before she brought a dark cloud over this joyous atmosphere, it was hard to fight the urge to stay. When the door finally swung open to reveal a ruffled and pink-cheeked Angie grinning up at her, Peggy knew she wouldn't be leaving any time soon. 

"English!" Peggy didn't remember anyone ever sounding so happy to see her. Angie radiated warmth in just her smile, her eyes crinkling in the corners as she grabbed Peggy's hand and pulled her into the cramped hallway. "About time you got here, we were starting to think you'd gotten lost." 

"I do apologise. Would an offering of liquor make up for it?" 

Angie parted her lips to respond but before she could utter a word a curly haired head poked out from a room further down the hall. Peggy could almost feel the effort Angie was putting into not laughing. The young man slid out into the hallway and, with an exaggerated flourish, leant against the wall with a grin.

"Did I hear the magic word?" he drawled, looking from Angie to Peggy. Angie snorted. 

"Geez Mikey, you couldn't even let her get through the door?" 

"Not on your life, Squirt." Mikey turned to Peggy and wiggled his eyebrows. "You come bearing gifts, m'lady?" 

"I see the dramatic flair runs in the family." The comment was aimed at Angie but Mikey still grinned all the more for it. Peggy couldn't help the amused look on her own face as she reached into her purse and presented the expensive looking bottle of whiskey she had stashed away in there. 

To his credit, Mikey was polite enough to thank Peggy profusely for the gesture before disappearing back into the room he had emerged from. His re-entrance was met with more cheers and even a whistle of delight. Apparently Peggy's gift had been well received. 

"Sorry about them," Angie laughed, "probably shoulda warned you really. The boys can be a bit much." Her smile was almost shy. Peggy had never seen this side of Angie before. 

"He seemed sweet." 

"Oh English, are you in for a rude awakening!" 

Angie grasped Peggy's hand once more and pulled her down the hallway, following Mikey. It was all Peggy could do not to trip on either her own feet or the pile of shoes at the side of the front door. It was no wonder Angie had tripped. 

Somehow managing to traverse the hallway, Peggy found herself in an equally cramped dining room. A large wooden table took up most of the floor space, with mismatched chairs tucked neatly around the sides. Along the walls hung paintings of various landscapes, all of which seemed to depict a warm and rustic country. Peggy felt that she recognised one of the places depicted, but for the life of her she couldn't place it. 

"Angie...?" It wasn't until she looked away from the painting that Peggy realised she was alone in the room. A door stood open leading through the far wall, with another almost shut by its side. Peggy could still hear the shouts of male voices and Angie's laughter coming from the open door, less muffled now that she was deeper within the family home. However, through the other a heavenly smell was wafting into the dining room. 

"Are you coming English?" Though her stomach was urging her towards the smell of food Peggy gave herself a mental kick and made her way through the open door. 

The sight that greeted her was bizarre to say the least. Three stone steps led down to a small courtyard where a brawl appeared to be taking place. Peggy's gut instinct was to roll up her sleeves and throw herself into the fray in an attempt to break it up, but she quickly checked herself as she caught sight of Angie perched on the bottom step, laughing. She turned back to grin up at Peggy for a moment before refocusing her attention of the tangle of limbs and mousy hair before her. What on earth...?

"You must be Margaret." The cool hand that was placed on Peggy's shoulder was a shock and she spun round to find herself looking down at what appeared to be an older version of Angie. "Antoinette Martinelli." The woman's smile was warm and, though it took a moment, Peggy eventually came to the realisation that she was meeting Angie's mother. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Martinelli. I apologise..."

"No need for all that. My boys are quite the handful. You certainly aren't the first to enter this household looking like a lost child." Antoinette patted Peggy's shoulder and gave her a wink. Two slim fingers were placed between her lips and, before Peggy could cover her ears, a sharp whistle pierced the air. 

Peggy felt every muscle in her body tense almost immediately. For a moment her vision blurred and she had to steady herself with a hand on the wall of the house. Her heart was racing. A flash of red, white and blue. _Pull yourself together_. 

"That's enough boys. Fetch your father and wash up. Dinner is almost ready." 

The next thing Peggy knew she was pressed up against the wall of the house as all four of Angie's brothers marched past her. It was an odd sight - four grown men falling into line at the order of their mother - like little boys playing soldiers. " _War is no game_ ," she had heard Colonel Phillips say once. 

_You're getting too close. You shouldn't be here._

*

The dining table seemed even larger once Peggy was sat at Angie's side. Just the two of them, surrounded by so many empty chairs. Seven. Enough to seat all of the Commandos and Steve. 

"Your mother's English is very good." 

"I should hope so, she's lived here long enough. Well, I say that, but papa still refuses to speak any language but Italian most of the time. Something about not wanting to distance himself from his true self." Angie shrugged. "You'll see what I mean when you meet him." 

"I'm starting to think your brothers may have gotten themselves lost searching for him." Though Peggy was trying to keep her tone light, she could hear something off in her own voice. She shouldn't have come here. The darkness was trying to consume her again. If things got really bad... 

Angie laughed. It was like a pin prick of light in Peggy's shadowed mind. 

"They'll be back soon. Papa's probably just mid-game or something." 

"Mid-game?" 

Thank God, Angie didn't seem aware of anything being wrong. 

"Yeah, he and the other men like to play chess at Salvo's girlfriend's place on a Sunday. Her dad's got a real fancy set up - not a pawn missing or anything. Not that there's anything wrong playing without..."

It was such a simple thing to sound excited about. Until that moment it had never occurred to Peggy how different Angie's upbringing had been from her own. As a child Peggy remembered having played with an ivory chess set that had been passed down through the family for some years. It was probably gone now. Gone like her parents. Gone with the house. Perhaps if she'd returned home after the war she could have found a knight amongst the rubble. Just a small piece that could have escaped the bombs. 

"... so that's really how we lost those two pawns in the first place. It was a shame we couldn't replace them but..." A bang resounded from the kitchen. Angie's mother cursing in Italian. Peggy jumped and, as she looked up, caught a glimpse of painting from before. "Peggy? Pegs, you okay?" 

Her head felt heavy. Her mind wouldn't clear. Dugan was hunched over her and Christ, her entire right arm felt as though it were being ripped from her body. Peggy squeezed her eyes shut. It had to be a bad dream. Eyes open. There were gunshots coming from behind the barn. Falsworthy threw a grenade. Fire. Burning. Screams. 

"Peggy?" 

She had to get out. Angie shouldn't see her like this. Nothing felt solid. Angie's brothers. An older man speaking Italian. Peggy had to get away.


	5. Edge of a Precipice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next evening, when Peggy entered the diner, it was almost as though nothing had happened. How did she look so calm? How could she seem so put together after the state Angie had seen her in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has taken forever - I suck! 
> 
> I have no excuse for the borrowed dialogue apart from a wish to align with canon.

The next evening, when Peggy entered the diner, it was almost as though nothing had happened.  Angie was just turning back towards the counter, a tray full of dirty crockery balanced on her hip, when she heard the slight creak of the revolving door and the clack of heels against the floor tiles

Just the sight of her made Angie freeze. She watched as Peggy headed straight for her usual booth and slid gracefully into her seat, producing a newspaper from her handbag. How did she look so calm? How could she seem so put together after the state Angie had seen her in?

It didn't go unnoticed that Peggy was yet to look at her. Though Angie was sure her friend could feel her gaze fixed in her direction, Peggy never so much as faltered - reading her paper in seeming obliviousness.

Angie pulled her attention away from Peggy for long enough to push through to the kitchen. In her distraction, she had failed to notice that the weight of the tray in her hands was beginning to grow too much, and the edge pressed into her hip felt as though it were cutting into her. It was a relief when she finally slid the tray onto the workbench. Stuart flashed her a small smile.

"You doin' okay, Martinelli?" Apparently, she hadn't seemed herself all day. Stuart had refrained from commenting so far but Angie knew that he'd been watching her. She'd felt his eyes trailing after her through the serving window every now and then. It was a little unnerving.

"'m fine. Thanks," she replied distractedly, rummaging in her apron pocket for her notepad and pencil.

Angie slipped from the kitchen again before Stuart could ask any more questions. She knew that he meant well, but the events of the weekend were a matter for she and Peggy to discuss. It wasn't Stuart's problem.

Out in the diner, Peggy's eyes were still firmly fixed on the front page of her newspaper and, as Angie neared, she caught a glimpse of the picture looking out from the page. Captain America. Somehow Angie couldn't imagine Peggy being a great fan of the Captain, though she supposed it was hard not to admire a man who had fought and died for his country.

Peggy had had some important role in the war too, Angie reminded herself as she came to stand behind her friend. Not for the first time, she caught herself wondering what exactly that role had been.

"I saw him once at a USO show in Passaic. You could eat him with a spoon."

"Yes, I understand he was quite something."

Well, that attempt at a light greeting had failed miserably. Angie felt her heart clench uncomfortably in her chest. That tiredness that Peggy always seemed to carry just below the surface of her cool, calm and collected exterior was seeping through; Angie had to fight the urge to pull Peggy into her arms and hold her until everything seemed a little more stable.

"Everything alright, English?" Angie hoped that her tone was light enough to not seem as though she were prying. She so desperately wanted to ask about what had happened at her parents' house the day before, but Peggy was such a private person. Angie didn't want to scare her off.

"Fine, Angie, if you don't count work."

Of course. The usual excuse. Not that Angie didn't believe it. She had enough experience dealing with male customers to know exactly how most men treated the women around them. But sometimes - just sometimes - it felt like there was more that Peggy wasn't saying.

"Boys at the phone company giving you a hard time?"

"No more than usual, it's just... During the war, I had a sense of purpose - responsibility - but now, I connect the calls but I never get a chance to make them. Do you know what I mean?"

Angie got the feeling that, for perhaps the first time, Peggy was almost opening up to her. She was watching Angie, carefully studying her with those big brown eyes of hers. For a moment, Angie wasn't sure what to say.

The war had felt so distant for Angie. She had spent the entirety of it clearing tables and taking orders just as she did now, (though at the time the job had seemed far less strenuous). Her brothers had gone off to fight, of course; but their letters had made the whole thing seem like such a lark. The serious attitude which Peggy seemed to take towards the whole thing was a far cry from Angie's war. How could anything she said even come close to empathising?

"I had an audition up town today. Took three trains. Got two bars into 'Is You Is, or Is You Aint', they gave me the hook - I guess I aint. We all gotta pay our dues, even if it takes a while. You got talent, it's just a matter of time before Broadway calls."

"I'm afraid I can't carry a tune." Peggy didn't miss a beat before responding and Angie had to fight back the grin that wanted to light her face up like all her Christmases had come at once.

This was the Peggy she knew. Quick witted and charming - modest almost to a fault. Sure, it may only be the surface view of the real Peggy Carter, but this Peggy made Angie want  to know the real Peggy more than she'd ever wanted anything.

"Doesn't matter when you got legs like yours." The words were out of her mouth before Angie could stop them and she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks as Peggy's expression changed.

Peggy seemed shocked at first. Her features tensed and her eye line dropped. After a split-second, however, the tension seemed to fade and the smile that Angie had grown to love so much pulled at her lips. Peggy looked over at Angie as though there were something that she wanted to say and Angie considered the very real possibility that she may die if her heart beat any faster.

"This is supposed to be a BLT. Where's the girl?"

Whatever Peggy had been thinking, Angie didn't get to find out. She turned towards the voice to find her least favourite customer glaring at her from two tables away. If Angie hadn't hated him before, she sure as hell did now.

"Oh, I'm sorry, do you not work here anymore?"

Sighing, Angie extracted herself from the seat opposite Peggy. She couldn't quite pinpoint when she had settled herself into the booth, but clearly doing so had been a mistake. Just one more thing that her customers could use to irritate her.

"Looks like I gotta go."

"Is he a regular?" Peggy asked. God, she had no idea how much Angie wanted to say that he wasn't.

"Yeah, but a regular what, I'm not allowed to say that on the clock." Angie could tell that Peggy was holding in a laugh at that response and half rolled her eyes in the hope of getting it out of her. "See ya later."

Peggy didn't laugh, but Angie could feel her watching as she walked away. So, maybe they hadn't discussed Peggy running out on Sunday lunch. Angie knew Peggy well enough to understand that some things were best left to rest. For now, she had left Peggy with a smile on her face, and that was enough for Angie.

 

*

 

Angie hated the evening shifts. Hated them with a burning passion. No matter how many times she told Stuart that she had to leave on time if he wanted her awake, smiling and charming his customers into submission the next morning he always managed to keep her there long after he himself had called it a day.

Tonight was no different.

"Look, Martinelli, I know I do this a lot. What can I tell you? My kid needs me home to help with his math homework."

"Yeah. Sure. An' I got a husband back home waitin' for his dinner to make its way to the table." Angie rolled her eyes. She and Stuart both knew that he would be heading straight to some seedy bar as far away from home as he could get once he left. The guy loathed both of his children. Never stopped complaining about them most days.

"Even if that were true, I know you're gonna lock up for me. C'mon Martinelli. It'll take you ten minutes, tops."

He was right and he knew it. Angie was too damn nice to say no. She held out her hand in resignation and Stuart flashed her a grin. He dropped the diner keys into her palm and promptly turned on his heel.

"I deserve a raise!" Angie called after him. All she earned in response was a low chuckle and a wave from Stuart. _In your dreams, Martinelli._

Twenty minutes of wiping down tables and scrubbing the grill later, and Angie finally found herself slipping out of the revolving doors and making sure everything was locked up nice and tight. The late night air was pleasantly cool on the back of her neck and she sighed as she turned and began heading down the block.

It was still busy in the streets. Angie wasn't sure she'd ever seen New York when it wasn't busy. So it shouldn't have surprised her when, before she'd made it a few steps, she heard her name being called.

"Angie? Are you just finishing your shift?"

Peggy was half way out of a car as she spoke, the smile that Angie had last seen on her face still painted on with her pristine, red lipstick. Peering through the windscreen of the car Angie could see a rather slim and well kept man sat in the driver's seat. He said something to Peggy which she brushed off with a swift goodnight, and before he could respond Peggy swung the door shut and headed straight for Angie.

"Where did you disappear off to?" Angie asked as she approached. "I saw you slippin' out the back door just after helping yourself to a slice of pie. I've set that aside for you, by the way.

"You're far too good to me, Angie." There didn't seem to be any sign that Angie's original question would be answered as Peggy grinned at her. _Nothing unusual there_. "I'll walk you home. It's the least I can do for my favourite waitress."

Something had changed since Peggy had left the diner earlier that evening. She seemed lighter. As they walked her right arm swung gently by her side and she scanned the length of the street with her eyes twinkling. The light from street lamps and lit up signs bounced off Peggy's curls and Angie found herself studying the way that each individual curl was formed so beautifully to frame Peggy's face. She had the kind of face that belonged in a painting, Angie thought. The kind of painting that kept its secrets hidden until someone came along who would care enough to unlock them.

"You seem happy," Angie observed abruptly. Peggy's eyebrow quirked up in response. "Not that I'm criticising. It's nice. Real nice. Don't think I've ever seen you smile like this before. Just... well, I mean..."

"Angie." Peggy laughed indulgently, rolling her eyes and shaking her head so that her hair bounced over her shoulders. "Do you ever just say what you're thinking without second guessing yourself?" Pink cheeked and smiling, Angie shrugged her shoulders and let her eyes meet Peggy's.

"I've been worried about you. Hard not to after yesterday. I'm just trying to figure out what's changed."

Peggy didn't tense up as Angie had expected she would. She exhaled slowly and seemed to consider Angie's words carefully. As the moments passed a small smile remained on Peggy's lips, though for a time no words passed them. Angie wasn't sure that she wanted to hear words, necessarily. She wasn't even sure she should have broached this particular subject at all. Still, it was out there now. No going back.

"I think things may be looking up." It was a simple response. It explained nothing, and yet somehow it comforted Angie. Peggy reached over and squeezed Angie's fingers lightly in her own. Angie could hear her own breath catch in her throat at the sudden contact. "I'm sorry for any concern I may have caused you."

 

* 

 

Her fingers were still tingling as she curled up in her bed. Had that actually happened? Angie really wasn't sure. It was as though a moment from a dream had crept from Angie's mind and wrapped itself around Peggy as they walked together. Either that or Angie really was working too hard, and the whole thing had been a waking vision that would eventually consume her.

Either way, whatever was happening here could go very wrong, very quickly. Or not, if she was lucky.


End file.
